


A Most Auspicious Start

by Satine86



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Series, Romance, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: He truly could not remember a time when he had felt more exhausted.





	A Most Auspicious Start

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for months, and I decided to finally polish it up and post because I'm still bitter we'll never get to see what happens next between Ros and Ben. So here's my quick take.

He truly could not remember a time when he had felt more exhausted. So worn out and weary down to his very bones, that he feared he might fall flat on his face any moment. Escalus was stable now, and it was only sheer force of will that had Benvolio still standing, leaning heavily against the wall while she spoke for him.

“This man is a traitor.”

“No, this man was pardoned by your lord.” She stood before the steward, fierce and unyielding, and it still seemed unimaginable that she would champion for him. A Capulet fighting for a Montague. Although, it seemed they had moved beyond the sum of their houses to something else entirely. Benvolio couldn’t help but be extremely grateful for that. 

“And,” she continued, eyes flashing, “were that not enough, he braved arrow folly to bring your lord to safety. Do you value your liege’s wellbeing?”

“Of-of course, ma’am.” The steward stuttered and flushed.

“Then you owe this man, Benvolio Montague, your thanks for preserving the life of your lord and keeping him from bleeding out in front of the gallows. Now,” she said firmly. “I think that owes him the debt of a private room, a hot bath, and someone to attend his wounds.”

“I agree,” the steward said, eyes firmly locked on her feet rather than her face. Which seemed a shame, Benvolio thought, she was never more beautiful than when she was sparring. “But the palace is in upheaval, soon there will be enemies marching toward the gates. I cannot spare people to attend to Lord Montague, no matter the debt he is owed.”

“Then simply offer him a room and a bath, and I shall attend him.”

“Madam I do no--”

“I have no time for your arguments. He is my betrothed, and the servants are in disarray as you have said, simply do as you are asked and then you may move onto more pressing matters.”

“As you wish.” He gave a low bow, then disappeared out of sight. She let out a deep sigh at the man’s departure, shoulders relaxing.

Benvolio thought to say something, opened his mouth to do just that but she held up a finger. “Do not say a word.”

It seemed prudent to obey her, and so he did. Besides he had no energy to argue, barely any energy left to sink back against the wall and sigh.

At some point a servant came to fetch them, guiding them to a prepared room with a hot bath waiting, along with a change of clothes on the bed. The sight seemed impossible to him, so simple and yet so inviting after the last few days. The servant left them and she turned on him, as brusque as ever.

“Enjoy the water before it gets cool.”

Again he obeyed her, heading behind the screen and peeling off his soiled clothes, wincing as bruises protested against the movement.

The water was still hot, and he sank into the tub gingerly as it stung the knicks and cuts covering his body. He hissed and gasped as he eased himself down, muscles protesting. Eventually he was submerged and let a grateful sigh escape his lips as he leaned back, the tension slowly leaving his body. Then she was upon him.

“Capulet!” he cried, using a washcloth to cover himself; albeit not very well.

“Please, it is nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said. In her hand she held clean cloths and salves for his cuts.

He eyed her, a bit of his bravado returning. “You peeked then? So brazen for such a fine lady.”

“It wasn’t as if there was much to see, my lord.” Benvolio choked on air, something between a cough and a laugh stuck in his throat. He might have been offended if not for the way her eyes were crinkled at the corners, the lightness of her gaze.

“You wound me, madam.”

Her amusement then became utter delight as she giggled at him, though only for a moment. She eventually gathered herself, focusing on carefully cleaning the blood from his face and ensuring his injuries were well tended.

“Speaking of wounds, you look as if you have been beaten.” She sighed heavily. “I am sorry, if it were not for me--”

“Don’t, it is hardly your fault.”

“I was the one who lied for Paris, let him and his men attack you.”

Benvolio shook his head. “You did what you had to, you kept us all alive. Besides that,” he hissed when she pressed the cloth against his bloodied nose, “was not from Paris.”

“Who did it?”

He realized his mistake only in that moment, so he shifted his gaze away from hers. “Never mind, it matters not.”

“Montague…” her voice was low, a warning.

“I would not have you think less of him.”

“Escalus hit you? Why?”

He nearly laughed at that, he could not lie and that had been the entire problem. “He wanted you safe, is all. He asked that I tell you I had conspired against him, that I was the New Prince. I told him no. He does not hear that word often, does he?”

She huffed a laugh, “I don’t suppose he does.” Then her hand was on his cheek, guiding his gaze toward hers.

“Thank you,” she said. “For telling me the truth.”

“I haven’t lied to you up to this point, Capulet. Why should I start now?”

Her smile was vivid and warm and he found himself returning it. She resumed her work, making certain the cuts were properly clean and applying a salve to help the deeper ones heal. There was an intimacy to the whole ordeal, such as Benvolio had never experienced before. She was so kind, so gentle as she tended to his battered body, fingers gliding over bruises as if she could heal them. Benvolio wasn’t sure he breathed the entire time.

Once she was finished, she rose and regarded him for a moment.

“You finish washing, there are clothes on the bed. I am going to go raid the kitchens because I can only imagine what they have fed you the last few days, if at all.” With that she left in a swirl of teal skirts, and Benvolio continued to soak in the bath until the water finally turned tepid.

He dried himself and dressed quickly, the borrowed breeches were plain and a light tan, the shirt just as plain and a crisp white in color. It felt strange to be so… light. He felt conspicuous. 

She returned just as he was using a towel to dry his hair, a plate full of an assortment of food balanced in one hand, a bottle and cup in the other. His stomach rumbled at the sight, he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper meal. Well before they had left for the Abbey.

There was a low table in one corner, and she placed the pilfered meal on it, gesturing for him to sit. He didn’t need to be told twice, and immediately dug in with gusto.

She carefully poured him a cup of wine, sliding it across to him. “I had thought to procure you something a bit stronger, but I figured you would need your wits about you.”

Benvolio laughed. “When have I ever had my wits to begin with?”

They fell into a comfortable silence while he finished his meal. Simple as it was, he savored every bite, happy in the thought that it would not be his last.

“Thank you,” he said when he eventually pushed the plate away. “For everything.”

Her smile was again warm but this time he felt something catch in his throat at the sight, and he swallowed thickly.

“Rosaline?” Her given name still felt strange on his tongue, like a foreign language. It had been so much easier when she was just ‘Capulet’, only now she wasn’t _just_ anything. She was everything, and that was a terrifying thought indeed.

He looked up, her eyes were sharp when they met his, her attention focused fully on him. That was also terrifying, and his heart lurched, stuttering inside his chest before it began to pound wildly.

“I do not want you to think that you are… beholden to me, for any reason. We.. the kiss--”

“Did you not wish to kiss me?” she asked. Voice firm, gaze unwavering.

“I never said that.” He swallowed again, his voice now barely a whisper.

She leaned forward slightly, head tilted and neck exposed. “Do you think I did not wish to kiss you?”

“I don’t know? I was a dying man, was I not? It could very well have been a kindness, a goodbye of sorts.” He felt so stupid to say it, but it was the obvious answer. She loved Escalus, and Benvolio… he was her friend. A confidant borne out of necessity. It was a welcome thing, truly, because he needed all the friends he could get. And he would not put that in jeopardy. Not over something as inherently foolish as his own heart, it had led him astray too many times before.

She rose from her chair, moved around the table and knelt at his side. Her hands gripped the arm of his chair while she gazed up at him, eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing manner.

“You, out of anyone, should know how contrary I can be when I do not wish to do something.” She reached up slowly, laid her hand against his cheek. “Benvolio, I kissed you because I care for you a great deal. Somewhere in this entire mess I went from thinking of you as The Montague, an obnoxious thorn in my side; to thinking of you as _my_ Montague, a treasured piece of my heart.”

Her voice was thick, and Benvolio could feel his eyes stinging. It seemed so absurd, so entirely outlandish that they could end up here, sharing a moment like this. He wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

“Careful,” he said, and cleared his throat to remove the lump that had suddenly formed. “If you keep talking like that I might swoon.”

She smiled at him, just a small quirk of her lips, teasing. “You mean you haven’t already? I am quite disappointed.”

He huffed out a laugh, uncertain what else to say. She saved him from even having to try, as she surged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Her cheek was pressed firmly against his, her lips near his ear.

“I am so glad you are all right. I do not believe I have said that out loud, but I have thought it more times than I can count.” Her breath was hot against his skin, voice quivering. He locked his arms around her waist, almost unthinking as he yanked her fully onto his lap.

Rosaline pulled back, one hand remained splayed on the back of his neck while the other rose to cup his cheek.

“Now I really shall swoon,” he said playfully, still trying to get used to the fact someone cared. That Rosaline Capulet cared.

“You keep saying that, but I feel it would take a great deal more to make you swoon.” Her thumb started tracing along his lower lip, and his mouth went dry.

“You would be surprised, I am actually quite a simple man.” He tried to smile up at her, but it waved slightly, his nerves getting the better of him. Still her thumb traced along his lip, feather light and wholly distracting.

Her returning smile was shy, and that alone emboldened Benvolio. He leaned forward, slowly closing the small gap between them while making sure she had plenty of time to reconsider. To come to her senses and realize she was currently perched rather provocatively on the lap of a Montague. She did not retreat though, instead she met him part way, their noses bumping together.

Rosaline laughed softly, her fingers gently curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. That was all the further permission Benvolio needed, and finally captured her lips in a kiss.


End file.
